


Tell Me What's so Bad About Feeling Good

by halfhardtorock



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/pseuds/halfhardtorock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Layla Williams finally got her hero name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me What's so Bad About Feeling Good

 

 

Nobody’s seen Warren since Cambodia, so when Layla brings her mint tea and book out on the porch, she nearly drops it when Warren looks up from her Adirondack chair, cigarette in hand, and smiles.

He’s grown a lazy-man’s beard, and it’s reddish gold along his jawbone, in the sun.

“Warren Peace, is this a friendly visit or-?” Layla asks, but she doesn’t mean it more than a tease. She’s probably the only one who can get away with that these days. No one but the conservatives on talk radio seriously question Warren’s loyalty. 

“I don’t know, Lemonata, you got any of those vegan wheat-free raw cookies?” he asks and then he stands up and they hug for a long, breathless moment. He’s strong and always a little warmer than everyone else. 

“It’s not Lemonata anymore,” she sighs and puts down her book on the table. He leans in to peruse it, flipping pages. 

“And why not?” 

“It wasn’t working for me, do you really want some of those cookies?” 

He gives her a raised eyebrow and she laughs. “Christ no. Where’s Will, Layla?”

She sits down at the table, pulls her tea in front of her. “Oh,” she sighs, “probably still in New York. There was this summit thing.”

“Ahh,” he says. “But you didn’t go.”

“Nah,” she waves a hand. “Not that interested. I had work here. The tomato plants had to go in.”

Warren looks at her closely, mouth set. And then he says. “I’ll be right back.”

 

 

She hears the water in the bathroom running for a while and then Warren going through the pantry. He comes out in a pair of her husband’s shorts and nothing else, a bagel dangling from his mouth. He’s got a big coffee table book from the library called _The Ferns of The Amazon River Basin_. He hefts it down next to hers and sits. He stretches out in the sun, eating, brows drawn together, serious as he looks through his book.

She smiles and drinks her tea, reading.

 

 

She’s making lunch and Warren is still out on the porch, snoozing away, head cocked to the side on his shoulder, hair loose and long. When she goes out to quietly put down the table cloth, she can smell him, warmed by the sun. He smells like charcoal, a little like burning hair. She puts her palm against the papaya tree by the porch and feels it working to grow underhand. Fat, ripe papayas spring up and she pulls two down and goes back to finishing her fruit salad.

There’s a solid _thump_ out front against the steps and Will says “Hey!” She wasn’t expecting him until late. She scrubs her wet fingers off quickly on a hand towel and runs out to see him.

He’s taking off his flight jacket when she comes out and he says “Hey,” again, but soft and pleased and they hug and he gives her a kiss. It feels like it might be the first of many, and he’s breathing like he’s trying to get enough air for the onslaught when she says “Warren’s here.”

He pulls away, surprised, and looks over her shoulder into the house. “What, really?” has asks.

“He got in this morning. He’s sleeping out on the porch. Shh, I’m making lunch so-”

But Will just flies past her and across the house to the back. “Warren!” he calls.

She rolls her eyes and picks her husband’s jacket up off of the floor.

 

 

They’re giving each other a manly, groaningly rough hug when she joins them out on the porch. Warren’s incandescent, teeth flashing in a ridiculously pleased smile and hands red-hot, slapping Will on the back. Will is probably the only person Warren can show that much affection to, without hurting him. 

Will looks like he might cry and it makes Warren’s smile fall away, and he glares at him and says “Oh, don’t do that, Stronghold.”

Will sniffles a little, smiling at himself, and then knocks Warren in the shoulder once. Not hard, but enough to make Warren grunt and stutter back on his feet. “You’re a real jerk, you know? We were worried! When you didn’t show up at the Hero Census, we thought you were a goner! Then The Green Gnat said she saw you in Tibet-”

“Will,” Layla warns, and his jaw tightens a little, holding back the rest. 

Warren’s smile is all sly now, corner tugged up. “You know, Will, I haven’t been to Tibet since that time we were sent to take out Rasputina and her-”

Will is blushing when he says “I remember that.”

Layla rolls her eyes at the mention of Will’s old arch nemesis crush and says “lunch!”

 

 

Warren disappears before they sit down and then comes out while Layla’s setting plates and he’s changed into a long sleeve white shirt, sleeves rolled casual, and some khakis. He’s got his hair all pulled back into a small tail. She stares at him, and he reaches across the table to grab a pea pod. He sits down and crunches on it and Will comes out of the kitchen with a pitcher of cucumber lemonade. He smiles at Warren and her and they all sit down to eat tofu-cheese sandwiches, vegetable stir fry and fruit salad.

“Would you like some lemonade, Warren?” Layla asks crisply and he grins and passes his glass. Shrugs into his seat a little and watches her.

She offer his glass back and his hand is really warm against her fingers. She thinks that his juice must get hot by the time he’s finished drinking it.

“How long are you staying?” Will asks, looking through the salad for more strawberries. Layla knocks him under the table with her knee.

“Just a day or two. Hey, how’s business? You guys still selling houses like your old man?”

Will frowns, hates his work being compared to his dad’s, always, so Layla interrupts and says “We’re greening people’s homes, helping them choose sustainable materials for new projects and renovations, helping them find affordable solar power installation...”

Warren drinks his juice in one long glug and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. “That’s just like you, Layla. Really saving the world while the rest of us are just playing at it.”

She blushes. 

Will starts to say something when the little buzzer on the deck goes off. 

Warren perks up, serious. “What’s that?”

Layla sighs. “It’s our _other_ job.”

 

 

“There’s this...it looks like the creature from the black lagoon! You guys have to...oh, man! It just ate the water works! You guys have to do something about it!” The mayor cries over the line.

Will is already downstairs getting changed, so Layla raises her eyebrows at Warren, questioning. 

He catches on right away, nods. “Yeah, Layla. Hell yeah, let me just go get my gear,” and he runs back outside for his rucksack.

 

 

She puts on her green overalls and braids her hair quickly. Her costume is this, sometimes a sun hat when it’s hot. Warren joins her in the foyer, and he’s wearing his old leather jacket and his hair all loose. He grins at her and she can see his canines. Will is the only one who wears the spandex, and he comes barreling upstairs, pulling his gloves on. “I’m gonna fly. You want to take the old Jetstream copter?”

Layla makes a face and Warren says “She can ride with me on my bike.”

He’s got his motorcycle stashed behind a redwood tree across the road, and Layla is climbing on when she says “They’re going to recognize you, now you’re out of hiding. How have you done it so long, Warren? When your superhero name is your real name, how have you stayed in hiding?”

He passes her back his helmet and she puts it on. It smells like ashes and his hair inside. She flips up the shield and he’s opening his wallet. He slips her his driver’s license.

It says _Tolstoy, Leo_ under his smirking picture.

She laughs and wraps an arm around his waist. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s worked like a charm.”

 

 

They drive into town going 90 mph, and then this green gunky blob thing is right in front of them and Layla shrieks as Warren puts his foot on the brakes and they skid along until he knocks into the side of the Public Library.

“Are you okay?!” Layla gasps and Warren is groaning “Yeaaaah?”

The blob writhes along the city, leaving slime on the concrete that begins corroding into a chalky-blue substance. 

They see the shadow pass as Will flies overhead.

“Let’s take this thing out,” Warren says and they ditch the bike.

 

 

A woman screams “It’s alive!” and then she sees the heroes and adds “It’s Sergeant Strong and that plant lady who used to be Lemonata! AND. IT’S WARREN PEACE!”

The people gathered all applaud and Will grins down at them. Layla and Warren stare at him, impatient, and then his smile falters and he goes into hero mode: all brave and bold, all the time.

“LAY-..I MEAN, LEMON...I MEAN. PLANT GIRL. COME IN FROM BEHIND,” he bellows. Warren grins at Layla, who rolls her eyes. “You gotta work on that name thing,” he whispers.

“WARREN PEACE, MY OLD ARCH NEMESIS AND NOW MY BEST FRIEND AND FAVORITE PERSON TO DOUBLE-TEAM WITH-”

Warren looks up at him, horrified, and Layla covers a hand over her mouth, laughing.

“I MEAN...NOT DOUBLE-TEAM LIKE THAT. OBVIOUSLY...” Will adds shakily and Warren screams “GET ON WITH IT, MEATHEAD!”

They take the blob-thing out in ten minutes. It’s a little longer because Layla says they need to lure it away from the pond, where its corrosive slime would cause a lot of damage to the eco-system. Warren sets fire to the thing and it shrivels down, dries out into a small husk the size of Layla’s palm. Will picks it up and throws it out of the solar system. As Layla shields her eyes with her hand and watches it go, she wonders what it’s like out in space, since Will started throwing stuff up there.

 

 

They’re back at the house and Warren and Will are laughing like the old days when suddenly they’re not laughing anymore, they’re fighting. Like the old days. 

Layla comes in with the coffee and sighs, sets it down on the table. 

“That thing with Magenta is not your business or _Layla’s_ business or _anyone’s_ ,” Warren snarls and kicks the ottoman into the wall. Will jumps up and yells “That’s a recycled African baobab stump!” 

“I don’t give a shit about your _stump_ , Will Stronghold!” Warren sneers and he storms out of the house. 

Layla hears his bike on the road and turns to look at her husband. She’s not angry, but she’s sad. She can’t help it.

“Why does it always end up like this with you two?” she asks, and sips her coffee. Will is infuriated though. He can’t answer her. He just goes downstairs to tinker around on his mastermind computer.

 

 

They’re still up talking in bed when their bedroom door creeps open and Warren is standing there in his boxers looking miserable, face marred with his worry. 

Will sighs and says “Come on, get into bed, ass.”

When they were younger, it was a lot easier. They practically fell into bed the first time, all of them hot from working. Well, Warren hot from being Warren, but it was playful and joking and only at one point had Will looked shocked, hands gone stupid with his panic, and Warren had just laughed and cuffed an arm around his neck and pulled him close for a wet, Warren Peace kiss, which is always enthusiastic.

Now Warren is like a shy dog, sneaking into their bed. Layla can’t help but bite her smile, move over as he hunkers down beside her, lean thigh all hot and smooth against her leg.

He sits awkwardly beside them under the covers, polite and quiet in a way that isn’t like Warren at all. Layla’s between them, and she can feel her body start awakening, excited. Wanting.

“So. What are you guys talking about?” Warren asks gently. 

Will stares across at him and says “Wind power in Northern California. How sustainable it is in the mountains.”

Warren nods. “Ooooh.”

Layla giggles and slips down to lie on her back, peering back and forth at the two men. Will grins down at her and then Warren lets out a long breath, exasperated, and looks down too. 

They both stare at her and then Will says “Want to hold her or tickle her?” and Warren says “Oh, I’ll hold her, William-” and she whoops as they descend.

 

 

When Will takes Warren, it’s something she’s almost embarrassed to see. The way it looks is too personal, even though she’s seen it before. And she’s welcome there, watching. But the way Will moves is private, is generous. Is all Warren’s. And the way Warren’s face accepts all Will gives him, with his mouth curled up and his eyes shut against the sweat on his brow...it’s amazing. It’s awesome in that old school meaning of awesome.

When he’s close, Warren starts to whimper, little words that Will can’t hear but she can. Near the end, it’s always Will’s name, all wobbly on his lips. And then Warren’s hands spark and he’s clawing for something to hold onto, so Layla gives him her own hand and he grasps on as he comes.

 

 

Later on, Warren growls as he makes love to her, while Will is dozing beside them. It should be a terrible thing to do next to your husband, but it just feels good. It feels like she became a superhero just for this. At least it’s a lovely perk.

He’s thicker than Will inside her, ruts a little deeper and harder and bites at her neck. Sucks at her fingers and is just a big dirty boy, which makes her blush. And happy.

“Come on,” he begs when he’s near finishing, but she’s not there yet. Almost there. She is arching against him and he’s got his too-hot fingertips rubbing her clit into little circles. 

She comes and feels the life energy rush out, blast through their bedroom and out into the world.

“Oh god, so tight,” Warren gasps. And then he’s coming, groaning “Oh, that’s it, girl. My Green _Goddess_.”

 

 

Which is how Layla Williams finally got her hero name.

 

 

In the morning, kudzu has grown up all around their house, swarming in through a broken window in the bathroom. Will looks out, wide-eyed, and Warren shoots Layla a wary look and then goes to try the front door. There’s a big, thick vine, grown up all over the handle, cutting the door from moving an inch open.

Layla looks out the window too, says “Oh. Heh. I...that’s odd.”

Will goes to make coffee and Warren points a finger at her, grits out “This isn’t the end of my trying to escape your lair, temptress.”

Layla smiles and goes to stash her pruning shears in the bathroom, under the sink.

After breakfast, Will is back downstairs tinkering away and Layla sits by the sunny kitchen window and lets Warren braid her hair with clumsy, hot fingers.


End file.
